The box, the hoodie and the secrets
by x-Athenea-x
Summary: Post season one: Ted is still struggling after Blake had left Rehab without saying a single word to him.


_The box, the hoodie and the secrets._

The soft mumbling sounds of the newscaster filled the flat with a sense of lulled purpose. Ted groaned as the hushed background noises soon became a monotone buzzing that penetrated through to his sleep. His eyelids slowly opened, much to the discontent of his unconscious self. He shut his eyes firmly, willing himself to sleep for just another five minutes. But then his consciousness took over and slowly he became aware of every annoying thing about falling asleep on the couch: that spring that keeps poking you in the ribs, that sliver of light that creeps through the curtains and just catches you right in the eyes, the uncomfortable angle your head is placed in, the neighbours having an argument downstairs … so many little thing that suddenly become the biggest nuisances known to mankind.

'FINE!' Ted shouted to whatever deity that ruled the cosmos. 'I CAVE! I'll get up!'

Swiftly, he got off the couch, turned off the TV – with a little more force than necessary – and stumbled his sorry and grouchy ass to the bedroom to change for tonight's escapade. Emmett and Michael were going to Babylon to cruise and he might as well joined them. He didn't think he'd get laid that night but a night out with friends and getting rejected is still better than a night of drunken solitude in his empty flat.

He entered his neatly organized bedroom. Paintings were accurately straight, the fringes of the carpet were neatly combed out and the pleads in the curtains were perfectly ironed. He opened up the wardrobe and a sense of satisfaction overcame him, as it often did when he noticed how neat something he took care of was … the wardrobe was colour coordinated, prearranged by type of clothing and all the items were evenly spaced out. Pants on the right shelf, shirts on the left and in the middle the shirts were arranged by sleeve length. On the base of the wardrobe sat two boxes, neatly stacked behind each other; one was his infamous 'play' box which hid all the embarrassing sex toys – all 50 of them, cleaned and organized by length and width – and the other box, smaller and hidden from view by the big sex box, was something that he would rather not look at too much. That was his memory box. Since childhood every time something had happened that had made him extremely happy or sad, he had taken a little memento and had stored it away in the little box. By now it was filled with tiny little physical memories. Most of them have been stuff that belonged to people he loved: his parents, friends and unfortunately there were also quite a few bits and pieces that belonged to ex-lovers. From time to time, when his old friend melancholy came to visit, he got the box out and reviewed what he had collected.

He picked out a plain blue shirt, black trousers and smart shoes. Classic, elegant and very Ted-like. He closed the wardrobe and put on the attire for the night, put on some cologne and combed his hair just the way he liked it. Satisfied he looked into the mirror. 'Well, it's as good as it ever will be' he mumbled.

In the corner of his eye he noticed a hoodie neatly folded on the chair next to the window. In his elegant and grown up looking bedroom, a hoodie quite stood out. He sighed deeply. A pang of hurt shot through him, as if he had touched an electric wire with wet hands. The pain was guttural, primal and instinctive. 'Blake' he whispered.

When he helped Blake check into rehab, they had forgotten to pack one of his favourite hoodies. After the check in, he had come back hopeful to his apartment and had folded it nicely to take it to him the next time he needed a change of clothing. After he realized that Blake had left the rehab, without a word or a goodbye, he hadn't had the heart to remove the hoodie from his place. It was as if the hoodie was waiting for his owner to pick it up. Waiting for his warmth to embrace him once more. 'One of these days' he said aloud but to no one in particular, 'One of these days I'll have to put you in the box.'

He took a step towards the chair, hesitated and then turned on his heels. 'Maybe later …'

Just as he was leaving the room, he gave the hoodie a sorrowful look, shook his head and decided to have a large glass of Mojito at the party.

At the party, he leaned back against the bar, observing as he usually did. Michael and Emmett were dancing, Brian and Justin were probably fucking in the backroom and about a hundred half naked gorgeous men danced around and above him. The atmosphere at Babylon was flaming hot and it smelt of youth, sex and cheap cologne. And yet, Ted just hung back and watched. He growled in frustration, noticing that everyone in the club was having more fun than he was having. He finished his drink in one long gulp and headed home. On his way out, he waved at Michael and Emmett, who both gave him a worried look (after all it wasn't even 5 am and he was leaving already) but they carried on dancing anyway.

The cool evening - or rather morning – air hit him like a ton of bricks as he walked out of Babylon. He inhaled deeply and repeated his personal mantra as if it were a little prayer. _'this, too, shall pass. This, too, shall pass'_

He walked through the alleyway, trying his best to avoid puddles of vomit, people passed out in the gutter and lingering horny bears trying to make last call with some drunk and probably underage twink. 'Oh the fabulous life of a gay man' he thought. 'Give me a fucking break.'

But just around the corner stood a man he had been thinking about – or trying his very best not to think about – for most of the night. A blond man with highlights, tight bleached jeans, trainers and a fishnet shirt that revealed his toned torso. Ted however didn't notice any of it, he was just captivated by those familiar blue eyes and boyish smile. He stood still and stared, until some boozed up twink accidently walked into him. The guy, barely steady on his feet, fell to the ground and yelped. Ted helped the guy up and he could feel eyes burning into his back. People were staring. Another pair of hands helped the guy up. Ted figured his friends finally came to his aid but instead he locked eyes with the same blue eyes he stared at a few seconds ago.

'Helping the needy again, Ted?' Blake said.

Ted stuttered, caught off guard and uncomfortable. 'Drunk guy … fell … idiot … splashed beer on trousers… wanker'

The guy soon left for home, or more probable another club or that dingy bathhouse that was open around the clock. A muffled apology and a dry heave later, then there was just Blake, with that boyish charming smile of his plastered on his face, and Ted, stunned and nailed to the ground. The noises of the party goers were drowned out by the silence that existed between them.

'You look well' Ted managed to utter in a somewhat composed manner. What he meant to say is 'better than I thought you'd be'. When he found out Blake had checked himself out of rehab, he was afraid that the next day he would hear about a dead body left on the streets somewhere on the 5 o'clock news.

'You look …' Ted started and Blake eyes up Ted from head to toe. 'Amazing! Did you just come from Babylon? Are you heading home?' The questions cascaded out of Blake's mouth like a waterfall. He couldn't help himself. Seeing Ted again had made that bubble of happiness burst.

Ted nodded but dared not speak. His heart was beating in his throat and he was afraid that the scampi risotto he had for lunch would make a comeback because of his nerves.

'Can I walk with you?' Blake asked, a bit shy.

'Sure,' Ted replied, his voice cracking. 'Are you trying to score brownie points by walking the elderly home?'

Blake laughed but Ted could tell he was nervous. They started walking, their feet on autopilot and dragging them both to a place they both know too well. The moon hung low and the fog was setting in, making it appear as if they were walking on clouds.

'How have you been, Blake?'

'Okay.' He replied. 'Better … I've been … using less.'

Ted resisted the urge to snort. But as he glanced sideways, he noticed the lack of clues. No twitching hands, no snivelling nose, no bloodshot eyes … Blake was clean. 'You know you would've gotten a lot more help at the rehab'

'Yeah, about that' Blake started. But he didn't know exactly what to say. 'Thanks for giving me a chance'

'I'm sorry you wouldn't give yourself a chance' Ted replied, his nerves soon being replaced by a simmering anger.

'I'm doing better, Ted. Rehab is just not for me'

Ted stopped walking. Blake walked ahead for a few steps before noticing Ted's abrupt change of heart. He sighed deeply. As glad as he was to see Ted again, he knew this would come. He knew Ted would resent him for turning down his help.

'Why' Ted merely said. 'If you want to throw your life away, then that's your call. But why. Why did you leave without a word. I thought I meant more to you than that.'

'You do' Blake whispered, his back still turned to Ted. 'You really do'

'Yeah right' Ted grumbled and walked away from Blake with fast and angry steps. Blake just stood there, bathing in moonlight and watching the man who had sacrificed a lot for him walk away from him. What surprised him most of all was that he just let him walk away. He didn't fight it. He surrendered.

An hour later, a knock on the door made Ted jump up. Even though he had come home a long time ago, he was still in his party outfit and he still had a few specs of glitter in his hair. With a hesitant yet curious look he glanced at the door. 'Who could that be?' he thought. 'Probably Misses Johnson downstairs to complain how loudly I closed the door. Crazy old bat'

He looked through the peephole and didn't see grey hair and a dirty apron. Instead, there was blond hair with highlights, a fishnet top and bleached jeans. Blake.

He opened the door and stared at the man in front of him. He barely could make out streaks of tears that have been wiped off on his cheeks.

'Blake, are you okay?' Ted asked, slightly worried.

'Yeah' he replied. 'I just didn't like the way we left things. I owe you … an apology and an explanation.'

He came in the apartment, not even waiting for an invitation. He sat down on the couch, his head bowed forward and he was rubbing his hands nervously. Ted slowly sat down in front of him.

'You've done so much for me' he started. 'Too much'

'Anyone would've done the sa-'

'No,' Blake firmly said. 'Anyone wouldn't do the same thing you have.' His eyes shot up and he looked into Ted's eyes, determination burning within them. He knew Blake and this is what he did when he was so sure of something. He knew that look.

'Nobody' he added. 'Nobody ever did anything like that for me.'

An uncomfortable silence crept between them. 'Then why did you leave, Blake?'

'Because … you.' He said angrily. 'All the things you did for me … and I just wrecked your life'

'Blake,' Ted started to dismiss him, his head shaking sideways and his hands up. 'You didn't wreck …'

'But I did, Ted. I really did. Because of me, you ended up in hospital. Because of me, you started using. Because of me …' Blake punched himself on the leg. 'I'm no good.'

'Blake'

'Don't' Blake whispered. He locked eyes with Ted and there were clear tears dancing on his eyelids. 'I'm a mess. I'm nothing. I'm worthless. I know it, you know it and your friends know it'

'Is this about what Emmett told you?' Ted asked, uncertain and remembering how Emmett had described his as a 'tweaked out crystal queen'.

'No,' Blake declared. 'It's about what everyone is saying. And it's fine. I just wanted you to know that I am grateful for your help and because of you, I'm doing better. You give me hope and I left because … I had no right to stay in your life. Not like this. I would only drag you down with me. I didn't want you to hurt because of me. Not you, not now, not ever. Not the one person who saw past my bullshit. Not you. But when I saw you tonight … I could tell you needed answers. And that's the only reason why I'm here. I don't want anything off you. I just needed you to know.'

Blake averted his gaze, not being able to look into Ted's brown mournful and pitiful eyes. 'I suppose I need to go now,' he got up and walked towards the door. 'Thank you for listening.'

Blake could feel his heart racing inside his chest. He had never been this honest about anything to anyone. It hurt him to say all those things he thought about himself out loud. As if finally saying them made them real. He felt an invisible hand clutch his throat and breathing became hard. He needed to get out, to get away from Ted. He needed relief. He needed peace, he needed his crystal.

'Wait,' Ted said. And with one word, one sound, everything vanished for Blake. His body stopped walking, stopped panicking, stopped craving. He still needed his drug but the drug was Ted.

He waited at the door, patiently but willingly. The only reason why he wanted to leave was for Ted's sake. He was no good for him and despite his strong desire to just curl up next to Ted on the couch and hang onto him for dear life, he needed to leave. For Ted.

The older man walked towards him with a little bundle in his hands. 'This is one of your hoodies. You left it when we packed for … you left it here'

Blake blinked at him and then at his hoodie. He involuntarily smiled. 'I loved that hoodie' he said, his voice thick with emotion.

'I know you do.' Ted smiled in return.

'You kept it,' Blake replied. 'After all this time, after all that's happened … you still kept it.'

'I couldn't get rid of it.' Ted explained. 'At first … I wanted to keep it because I loved it. But then I knew that … getting rid of it meant that it was over. Officially over. And I didn't want it to be. I folded it and left it on your chair by the window, where you used to read my books. In case you'd ever show up again …'

Blake's smiles faltered. Gently he placed the hoodie back into Ted's hands. 'Keep it. But don't get rid of it. Not unless you … want to.'

Blake turned to leave the apartment and just as he was about to shut the door, Ted spoke. 'You can do it, you know.'

Blake looked at him with an unknowing expression on his face. 'Do what?'

'Anything you want,' Ted replied. 'Quitting crystal meth, get a good job, start over. You can do it. You're strong and brave enough.'

Blake rushed to Ted and gave him a small and gentle kiss on his cheek. He lingered by his ear and whispered ' Sometimes it feels like you're the only one who believes in me'

Swiftly he exited the apartment and ran out of the building as he wiped tears of sadness, confusion and hopelessness from his eyes.

Ted, back in his apartment, didn't run after him even though it was the one thing he wanted to do. He knew that Blake needed to find his own way back and that he wouldn't accept his help. His heart was breaking. He was scared that Blake truly believed all the things he had said but more so, he was scared that he would never see him again. He was scared that Blake wouldn't be able to find his way back home.

He went back to his room, folded the hoodie again and placed it on the chair again. Blake's chair. Determined, he pushed the thought of the little memory box inside his wardrobe back into the furthest corners of his mind. He knew he didn't want any possessions that belonged to Blake ever to end up there.


End file.
